


Weather

by Chubbidust



Category: Splatoon
Genre: M/M, More characters will be added as they come in - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24924037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chubbidust/pseuds/Chubbidust
Summary: Agent Eight shook his head and wiped at one of his eyes, solemnly staring out the window once more, “Storm is so pretty and calm up here. Underground...is a nightmare. I hate there. I never want go...to go back.”Three had a bad feeling for where this conversation was going.---The sky and its seasons are beautiful to an octoling who's never experienced them.Agent 8 has some 'firsts' regarding weather, and it's both adorable and also very very sad and depressing.Agent 3 witnesses these events and does his best to live with Eight while also battling to keep his feelings about the octoling at bay.
Relationships: Agent 3 & Agent 8 (Splatoon), Agent 3/Agent 8 (Splatoon)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	Weather

Agent 3 knew that the octarians didn’t experience the weather the same way underground that inklings and other creatures did on the surface, but that didn’t stop him from laughing at Agent 8’s face pressed firmly against the glass of the window in his living room.

He had previously agreed to let Eight room with him in his small apartment, the duo in Off the Hook happily deciding to cover his portion of living expenses to make up for it. Apparently, the octoling had been on quite the adventure before Three dived in to the rescue, previously participating in exhausting ‘tests’ that ran down his patience, sleep, and willpower. A whole night of sneaking around the bowels of the test facility to escape took a hard toll on him as well, which made Three sympathize for him even further.

That’s why he didn’t blame Eight for doing pretty much nothing but sleeping for the first two days of living in his apartment. He got off the helicopter platform, Off the Hook told him to head to Three’s place to rest, they made it to the apartment, and Eight collapsed in Three’s bed where he proceeded to sleep for over 12 hours (Three took the couch for the night). Then he woke up sore, took a very looooong shower, ate some apple slices fed to him by Three, watched a bit of TV, then conked right back out on the living room couch for another 8 hours. 

Three left in the morning (leaving a note in simple octarian language for the still sleeping Eight) on the third day to do some daily battles and errands, but had to cut his activities short in early evening when the weather forecast notified him of potential thunderstorms. Don’t get him wrong, inklings weren’t as fragile in rainy weather as many think, but he didn’t enjoy the idea of leaving Eight alone at his apartment when the storm would hit. He trusted that the octoling wouldn’t lose his mind if he were alone, but seeing endless droplets of ‘deadly’ water falling from the sky for possibly the first time would (somewhat) reasonably make anyone believe the apocalypse was near. Plus, the rumbling of the earth when it thundered could make the octo falsely assume an earthquake was happening. Octarians already had loud, crumbling buildings that fell apart every day, so the thunder could end up being a major trigger for him.

Thus, Three was now back home in his apartment just after sunset with a bag of fresh takeout covered in droplets in his right hand, the smell wafting in his nostrils and making him drool. He’d made it home right as the rain began to drizzle, though he knew that it’d quickly pick up over the hour. At least he didn’t need his umbrella, the dark grey jacket he’d slipped on in a rush was good enough.

He could hear the TV murmuring in the living room as he slipped his sneakers off and unzipped his jacket, half-stifling a yawn as he stepped into the room, ready to sit on the couch and stuff his face in. Now closer to the TV, Three noticed that it was set to the default channel it sometimes reset back to- the news. The weather woman was a crustacean, gesturing towards the forecast for the upcoming hours with a slightly uneasy look to her pasted smile.

“...recommended that everyone stay indoors for the upcoming storm that will impact Inkopolis tonight, as it can carry winds of up to 18 miles per hour. Make sure you have the necessary supplies in case of an outage, such as a flashlight or a candle, bottles of water, and…”

As the wind began to whistle and whirl outside, Three found himself distracted from the news and glanced at the window, only to suddenly spot Agent 8 with his face pressed firmly against the glass, fog from his breath misting up the window as he gazed at the droplets raining down outdoors. His magenta-red main tentacle was gently flicking back and forth, curled against the glass. He looked stupid.

Three cracked a grin and let himself snicker, letting his head loll to one side, “...Eight?”

With a start, Eight whirled around from the window, looking like the living embodiment of a kid caught with the cookie jar. His eyes were wide and an intense blush flooded his cheeks, the octoling clearly having not heard Three re-enter the apartment. The fact that he was embarrassed over being caught over something so minor was pretty adorable, though Three would never admit it out loud.

They both stared at each other for a moment in sudden silence, the wind outside seeming louder than ever. Three laughed again and held up the bag in his hand, shaking it enticingly.

“Brought food.”

Eight’s demeanor changed instantly, the octoling perking up and eyes attentive at the sight of the bag in Three’s hand. Then he blushed even harder and shyly turned his face away when his stomach audibly growled loud enough to overpower the audio of the television.

Three turned any building laughter into a harsh and gross coughing fit, hoping Eight was gullible enough to fall for it and avoid further embarrassment.

The both of them eventually sat down on the couch and began feasting upon their dinner, slurping up some ramen noodles cooked at a local restaurant. The television had long since been changed to some random soap opera Eight was insistent on watching, though Three never could understand anything going on in the show among all the drama and bad acting. Eight was enamoured with the show, though, so he didn’t mind at all.

Though Three was a bit of a pig and finished his noodles pretty quickly in a matter of a few minutes, Eight was a much more slow and careful eater, it was almost admirable. The boy gently twirled the thin noodles in his chopsticks with grace and blew the softest of breaths to cool them off before taking a small bite and smiling as he chewed, savoring the flavors that’d dance on his tongue with a satisfied hum. Then he’d swallow and the process would start all over. 

Three coughed, fighting to keep the blush off his face. How long had he been watching him? Pull it together, Three! You barely know him!

Eight glanced over, tilting his head in soft confusion with a raised brow. Three chose to pound lightly on his chest and grunt, pretending to act as if a noodle was caught in his throat. He was such a goddamned loser.

The octoling’s gaze lingered on him for just a bit longer, before he turned his attention to the soup in his hands, raising the bowl to his lips and sipping the broth to join the noodles in his stomach. He didn’t even sip as loudly as _some_ inklings Three knew, the agent bitterly remembering an outing he went on with Agent Four to the same restaurant he got the takeout from.

As if the universe wanted to be noticed, while Three was in the middle of his thoughts and Eight was finishing up his ramen, a giant crack of thunder sounded throughout the apartment, all the furniture inside shuddering as the building rumbled. Naturally, Eight threw his empty bowl across the room in surprise and Three turned his attention back to the window, noticing the rain was coming down much, much harder than it had been for the past hour. Storm was finally picking up. Now let’s just hope that the power doesn’t-

And as if the universe then wanted to laugh and then dropkick him onto his face, everything suddenly went pitch black, the only source of light being the faint light of the moon hidden behind the thunderclouds from the window. The whirring of the air conditioning and the white noise from the TV died off, allowing just the whistles and whines of the violent winds outside to be heard along with the occasional grumbles of thunder.

“...T-Three?” He heard Eight call out in a small voice, the octoling not panicking by any means but definitely sounding startled.

“Hang on- Hang on…” He muttered back, blindly fishing into his jacket’s pocket for his phone. Once he had a good grip on it he pulled it out and fumbled for the power button, waking the phone from sleep and immediately enabling the flashlight. Eight’s squinting face was immediately illuminated, the poor octoling blinded by the sudden bright light from the phone.

“SHIT-sorry.” Three cursed, quickly pointing the phone at his own face instead, blinding his own eyes. He then dropped the phone on the floor. He was an idiot.

Once he swiftly retrieved his phone from the ground, Three let out a flustered chuckle as he attempted to recover from his dumbassery. He pointed the phone's flashlight towards the ceiling, somewhat illuminating the whole room with weak, calming light.

"There." Three sighed, "We at least have some sort of light for now."

Eight glanced around the room for a moment, then met eyes with Three, a glint of concern in them.

"When light be back?" Eight's grasp on the inkling language was nowhere near perfect, but he knew enough to communicate the bare minimum. He was learning very quickly every single day, so it wouldn't be long before the intelligent octoling would be near fluent.

"Week or two? Three? Month?"

Three made a face as he mentally pictured the thought of having no power for an entire month, "Hell no. If anything, it'll likely be back within a couple hours or by the time we wake up in the morning. Definitely not in a week."

"Oh."

There was an awkward lapse in conversation, the two cephalopods at a loss for what to do or converse about next. They sat in silence and listened as the rain pattered down on the building and window, offering a soft and soothing white noise along with the occasional rumble of thunder. It was actually pretty nice, the mesh of gentle noise provided an odd lullaby for Three, provoking the young teen to briefly yawn and slouch against the couch’s cushion.

Wordlessly, Eight suddenly rose from his seat and strode back over to the window, pressing his hands against the glass as he gazed outside. His tentacle swayed slowly, glistening in the limited light from the moon outside and the occasional lighting strike. Three’s ears would twitch from time to time, catching the little gasps of awe the octoling would whisper under his breath. What was it about the stormy weather that captivated him so much?

Before he knew it, Three left his phone on the couch and found himself approaching the window as well, his dark eyes glossing over the blacked-out city and catching on to the little things that caught his attention. There was someone walking along the sidewalk across the street wearing a poncho, though it was too dark for Three to tell what color it was. Some of the buildings off in the distance had their lights on, though judging by the vast majority of the other buildings without lights, Three could only assume those buildings got lucky or had emergency generators at the ready.

Three and Eight both stood at the window for what felt like an eternity, before Eight began in a soft voice-

“When light out underground, it so dark we not see.”

Three glanced away and shifted his feet, a rising feeling of uneasiness in his gut. Still, Eight continued, his yellow iris’ flickering over to a lightning strike in the distance.

“I worry for everyone underground. We not see others. Things. Bump and...and trip a lot.” Eight stuttered a bit over his words, looking down at his feet as his voice grew quieter. “Lucky others got lights. Most, nothing. Nothing for weeks. Suffer.”

“Eight…” Three attempted some form of consolation, but faltered with his voice dying in his throat. He coughed and subconsciously rubbed at his arm, feeling his ears wilt as the mood in the room shifted. He wasn’t that good at important, emotional conversations, they always made him flustered and clam up.

“Three...I worry.” Eight murmured, fiddling with the short sleeve of his shirt as he spoke, “When more octolings come to Promis-Inkopolis...When octolings come to Inkopolis, will war happen again?”

What? Oh no. No no no. Three could feel his blood run cold once those words fell out of Eight’s mouth.

“War? Eight- no. No no no no. Don’t say something like that.” He quickly rested a hand on Eight’s shoulder in what was hopefully a comforting gesture, though he doubted it did all that much. “Another war won’t happen. That’s not gonna happen.”

Agent Eight shook his head and wiped at one of his eyes, solemnly staring out the window once more, “Storm is so pretty and calm up here. Underground...is a nightmare. I hate there. I never want go...to go back.”

Three had a bad feeling for where this conversation was going.

In the smallest voice possible, Eight turned fully to look at Three straight in the eyes, unshed tears threatening to spill at any moment and asked in a broken tone-

“When too many octolings come to Promise land, please not make...force I back underground…?” He pleaded with a wavering voice, wiping at his eyes again. “I love Inkopolis. I want to stay.  _ Please  _ not force me go back.”

Body moving automatically, Three shocked himself when he pulled Eight into a sudden hug, arms wrapping tight around the octoling’s lean frame. He felt Eight shudder in his embrace, jolting in surprise when an abnormally loud crack of thunder boomed across the apartment and made the furniture shake. It took a few seconds before Eight closed his arms back around Three, the young teen burying his head in Three’s shoulder with a small hum.

“I like the storm. Loud, but not scary. Just...loud. I can see. Not suffer.” 

It was at this point Three vowed to himself to  _ never  _ let Eight believe in another war occurring again. His grip on the octoling tightened ever so slightly as he bitterly recalled his history lessons in school, wondering why octolings had to be forced underground instead of coming to a compromise. He hadn’t thought much of it then, but  _ why  _ was the world seemingly forgetting about octolings altogether? Leaving them to fend for themselves underground with waning resources...it sickened Agent Three.

“Eight…” The inkling swallowed thickly, throat feeling dry, “Another war will never happen, I will fight for it not to. You and other octolings deserve to live up here with the rest of us and enjoy the weather, not...down there.”

He rubbed the octoling’s back and pulled him just a bit closer, ignoring the giddy fuzzy warm feeling rising in his chest for the sake of just comforting his friend. Eight didn’t show any signs of wanting the hug to stop nor for Three to stop talking, so he took that as a sign to keep going.

“What us inklings did was a pretty stupid mistake, and unfortunately not a lot of us realize it. But I did, and I’m trying to help others realize it too. We take our lives for granted but you guys have it so much harder.” Three paused with a soft sigh. “I want to help all the octolings I can, but a single sixteen year old inkling can’t influence that much change- especially with a government as dumb as ours.”

With a roll of his neck and a quick glance over at his phone back on the couch, Three continued muttering, “When the weather clears up ‘n stuff, I’ll take you all around town and show you how cool Inkopolis really is. After all you’ve been through, you’ve gotta get some fun time in.” Three felt himself smile. “And if some asshole starts giving you a hard time while out, I’ll fuck them up, alright?”

He felt Eight laugh on his shoulder and let his arms fall as the octoling pulled himself from the embrace. A small, half-hearted smile was present on his face, his head warmly tilted to one side as he looked into Three’s eyes.

“Thank you, Three.”

Three smiled right back, that giddy feeling from earlier returning tenfold. He felt his cheeks grow warm, but he didn’t care in the moment.

“Yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Leave feedback if you'd like. Find me @chubbidust on twitter.


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